Running in Circles
by scarletsailor
Summary: They'd played the same game for years until she moved away in the 8th grade. After five years of not seeing each other, Barden University brings them back together. The game continues but maybe, just maybe, they're tired of playing / Because Stacie needs her happily ever after, too


Running In Circles

Chapter 1: Soul Mate—n. a person with whom one has a strong affinity, shared values and tastes, and often a romantic bond

It was probably weird that they knew each other better than they knew anyone else.

In elementary school, boys and girls just weren't best friends. That just wasn't how things worked. The boys grouped together and the girls did the same, sticking with each other like packs of wolves. They interacted during class but never on the playground. The boys played basketball or raced each other on the field. The girls played tetherball or sat in the shade and gossiped. Some portions of the playground were even sectioned off and reserved for one of the genders.

So, when Oliver Hale approached Stacie Conrad and her friends on the jungle gym one day, it was like a universal law had been broken: incomprehensible and disturbing to the 7 year-old brain.

"Hi," he had said, bending down on one knee.

She looked up at him from her spot on the ground, eyes wide as though an alien had just beamed down in front of her.

He'd had eyes only for her and the brightest and most friendly smile on his face that she'd ever seen. His blonde hair stuck up in odd directions and his green eyes were bright. "I'm Oliver," he greeted, despite the fact that they were in the same class and she knew exactly who he was and vice versa. He stuck his hand out and looked at her expectantly.

Stacie's stare flickered from between his eyes and hand. Reluctantly, and to the horror of the friends around her, she took it. His grin grew so wide that the white of his teeth nearly blinded her. "I'm Stacie," she said, slowly returning his smile.

And that's how it started.

* * *

That was in the second grade.

By the time third grade rolled around, they were best friends. They had this kind of competitive friendship where they'd try to outdo each other, a friendship filled with teasing and noogies and absent of cooties. They'd play thumb war to settle disagreements. He'd give her piggyback rides when she was 'too tired' to walk back to class after recess. She'd fix his hair when he messed it up (at any point during the day). And at lunch, they would exchange his Oreos for her apple because she was addicted to cookies and her mother wouldn't pack them for her and he loved fruit.

Eventually, they had formed their own little group of friends made up of both boys _and_ girls. It took a little convincing but their friends caved quickly when they realized how determined Stacie and Oliver were to stick together. They forced their friends to adapt by dragging them to the same table at lunch and shoving them together on the playground. They were stubborn. It was something they had in common.

Their terms of endearment were things that came quickly.

He had learned to ride a skateboard when he was 6 years old. By the time he was 8, he could ride expertly, but knew very little tricks. To his great surprise, she knew plenty.

One day, they were playing in front of her house and he'd brought his skateboard with him. He sat her down, determined to show her the new trick his cousin had taught him. When he did it wrong, Stacie had rolled her eyes and grabbed the skateboard from him, boldly stating, "Let me show you how it's done."

She rolled the board from the back to the front and executed the trick perfectly.

He raised an eyebrow, determined now to show how impressed he was. "You know, they named that trick after me right," he claimed, puffing his small chest out.

She nodded sarcastically. "Sure they did, Ollie."

It was also in the third grade where they became next door neighbors.

Stacie's mother found out she was pregnant with twins and her family decided that they needed a bigger house. Oliver's parents owned a real estate company and immediately hopped at the chance to help them.

The day he found out, Oliver had peeked out the window and noticed the 'FOR SALE' sign on the house next door's front lawn. He had forgotten about it after a month of it sitting there.

A two-story house with four bedrooms, a big kitchen, a backyard big enough for a pool, and to top it all off, a front door the color of candy apple red.

He had always figured that it was the front door that drove buyers away but he happened to know that candy apple red was Stacie's favorite color.

Oliver had groveled, _begged_, his parents. There had been a few other families looking at the house, but his parents knew how close he and Stacie were, so after a half hour of pleading and a promise to help them move in and to wash all of his dishes for a month, the house was sold to the Conrad family a week later.

He kept his promise by helping them move in and made sure to have her pick the room with the window that was opposite from his next door. After a few hours, they had her boxes moved in and one of his two walkie talkies tucked safely away in her nightstand with batteries to last for weeks.

They'd waste hours of the night talking to each other when their parents thought they were sleeping.

She'd tell him what to wear in the mornings by looking out her window. He'd yell and throw things at her when she refused to roll out of bed. And best of all, they'd get to walk to and from school together since he—_both of them_—lived so close.

Stacie's twin brothers were born when she and Oliver were 9 years old. That's how _her_ nickname had come about.

The twins, Logan and Liam, had started talking quicker than anyone expected. They could say mommy and daddy easily. They even learned how to say Ollie before her own name.

He spent a lot of time there. It made sense. His family was hers and her family was his.

Oliver figured that the twins had trouble with their s's. He'd tried to get them to say things like 'soup' and 'silly' but they couldn't do it. So one day when he was waiting for Stacie to get back from ballet practice, he played snake with the twins. He'd only communicate with them through hissing while he 'slithered' on the floor.

When Stacie and her mom walked in on him like that, they were torn between laughter and bemusement.

He abruptly got to his feet, brushing imaginary dust off of his shirt and gave them an embarrassed smile. "Hey, Stacie," he said, waving her over to the twins' cradle, "look at what I taught your brothers to do."

"Uh oh," she said, setting down her bag and slowly walking over, "this can't be good."

He grinned confidently. "Come on," he took her hand and dragged her over, "watch this." He leaned down towards the baby boys and hissed softly. They mimicked him clumsily, sticking their tongues out and spitting.

"And you wanted me to see this…why?" Stacie asked, wiping some spit off of her hand with a disgusted expression on her face.

"Just watch," he urged her. "Hey boys," they looked up at him, "who's this?" He gestured to Stacie broadly.

"Ssssstacce," Logan slurred.

Liam giggled. "Stace!" he cried gleefully, clapping his fat hands. "Stace!"

Oliver grinned. "Guess I'm a better teacher than you thought, _Stace_," he said pointedly, waggling his eyebrows at her. "You can thank me now."

She didn't think it was possible, but she managed to shove him and hug him at the same time.

He'd never forget that day because that was the day when she gave him his first kiss.

Stacie pecked him on the cheek and his face split into a grin. "Thanks, Ollie."

She gave him his second kiss when they were 10.

He had been in gymnastics since he was 5. His friends thought it was girly but his dad had promised him that it would get him a lot of girls when he grew up. He had tried it on Stacie but she had just shoved his face away with an exasperated roll of her eyes.

One day, Stacie was playing with her brothers in the living room when her mother got a phone call from the kitchen.

"Hello? Oh hi, Helen… Oh god, what happened?"

Stacie looked up.

"Is he okay?...Is it bad?...Absolutely…Yeah, no problem…Okay, take care." She hung up the phone and grabbed the key that hung with the rest. "Stacie, I'll be back in a minute, okay?" She kissed her daughter's head. "Take care of your brothers."

"Mommy, what happened?"

"Nothing, sweetie. Oliver's in the hospital. He fell while he was at his gymnastics practice. He's alright but I need to pick up Emily from her friend's house and call his father." She opened up the door. "Stay here until I get back," she ordered, closing the door behind her.

Two hours later, the Hale's car pulled up to their yard and Oliver climbed out. His father quickly handed him his crutches and closed his door. His little sister, Emily, hopped out behind him and he leaned on her.

"Ollie!" Stacie ran to him at top speed and threw her arms around him. She could vaguely hear her mother scolding her for tackling her injured friend but she ignored her. Instead, she whacked him in the shoulder with as much strength as she could muster and he cringed.

"Ow!" he cried. "You just smacked a cripple!"

"You are never _ever_ allowed to scare me like that again," she declared, "got it?"

"Yes, _mom_."  
_  
Whack_.

"_Ow_!" He glared at her. "_Fine_, I promise to never ever scare you like that again. Now do me a favor?"

"What?"

He held up a black Sharpie. "Sign my cast?"

Ten minutes later, they sat in his room on his bed, his leg propped up on a pillow. Stacie leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. She snatched the Sharpie from his suddenly stiff hand and signed her name on his fire truck red cast in her swirly cursive. They fell asleep next to each other that night, legs tangled and hands next to each other.

Oliver's mother initially objected but his father waved her off dismissively after asking Stacie's parents if it was okay if she slept over. He covered them up with a blanket and ruffled his son's blond hair. "G'night, rascals," he whispered.

Fast forward a few years and they started middle school together. Stacie's mom volunteered to carpool and drive the both of them to school and pick them up at the end of the day. Every morning, they'd sit in the back because they didn't want to argue over who got shotgun. But they _would_ argue over what music to listen to on the ride there, not like it really mattered since it was only a ten minute drive.

Their seventh grade year started off pretty badly. The only two classes they had together were PE and Honors Language Arts. Stacie had been outraged at Oliver for taking honors classes while she took normal, therefore separating them. Yes, Oliver knew that taking honors classes in middle school didn't mean _anything_ except that you got more work than the normal classes. But in order to advance to geometry in the eighth grade and then algebra 2 in the ninth grade, he had to take algebra in seventh grade.

He didn't exactly like it either! He had _definitely_ noticed the way boys looked at Stacie differently and he hated not being able to be there for her 24/7 to keep their paws off and their eyes away. Granted, he had noticed that she had, ahem, _matured_ a lot once they hit middle school, but he'd sooner jump off a cliff before actually admitting this to her.

He had tried telling her his side of the story, but her anger raged on.

Stacie had been _so_ outraged in fact that she refused to speak to him for a week.

On the eighth day of ignoring him, a crumpled up paper ball sailed into her window at 10 o'clock at night. She curiously picked it up and unfolded it: _:(_

Stacie chuckled reluctantly and rolled her eyes. She opened the drawer in her nightstand and pulled out the walkie talkie that she'd kept there for four years. "You make it so hard to stay mad at you, Ollie," she said once she pressed the button, knowing that he'd be on the other end of the line, waiting for her.

"You managed to hold out for a week this time," he remarked, grinning. "That's a new record, Stacie."

"Well, maybe if you stopped giving me reasons to be mad at you, I wouldn't have any records," she said, cocking an eyebrow. "I hate you."

"I know you do." He smiled fondly. "I love you, too."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you sure you understand English? Or are you speaking alien?"

"Actually, stupid is my first language and I sometimes accidentally mix that into my English," he said casually. "But you seem to understand me most of the time so maybe you speak it, too."

She laughed, trying to stay quiet. Her parents were most likely still up watching TV or something so she lowered her voice. "You've rubbed off on me," she said.

"Good," he said in a satisfied tone. "Stop being mad at me?"

She smiled. "Okay," she caved.

He grinned. "That's better," he sighed, as though an actual physical weight had been lifted from his chest. "I can breathe again."

Again, she rolled her eyes. "You're dumb."

"Well, you better get used to it, Stace, 'cause you're not getting rid of me anytime soon."

She laughed softly. "Good."

'Anytime soon' turned out to be a lot sooner than either one of them expected.

Middle school passed and they graduated. Stacie had worn this stunning pink dress with a frilly skirt that flew out when she twirled. She also wore a silver chain with a purple amethyst around her neck, a present from Oliver (that his mother helped him pick out). The mere sight of her was enough to take his breath away. She had insisted on matching, however, and so Oliver wore a pink tie and belt over his black vest, white dress shirt, and black slacks. She ended up fussing about his tie the entire time, claiming that he had not done it right, and then returning to her old habit of fixing his hair every two seconds.

They took tons of pictures before, after, and during, even though they weren't allowed to have their phones or cameras with them during the ceremony. She'd actually stolen his camera and taken a bunch of funky pictures of him when he wasn't looking.

Their families left together and surprised the two 14 year-olds by taking them to Baskin Robbins. It was hot and they sat out in the sun for nearly two hours.

"Careful, Stace," Oliver cautioned, "don't spill on your dress." He nudged her and she squealed when her ice cream nearly tipped and came centimeters from dripping. She slapped him on the arm and he laughed.

"You're a jerk," she muttered.

He held up his ice cream threateningly and her eyes went wide.

"Absolutely not."

He ignored her protests and raised his cone. She grabbed his wrist with her free hand and he playfully roared like a monster as he twisted his hand, trying to smother her face. "Ollie, stop!" she cried. He pinched her side and she squeaked, jumping in her seat. The sudden jolt sent her arm flying out and his ice cream backfiring into his own face.

His outburst of surprise was muffled by the soft serve coating his face.

Stacie laughed and slapped a hand over her mouth. "That's what you get, jerk."

He grabbed a fistful of napkins and wiped his face. She smiled, took the napkins from him, and cleaned off the rest of his face. He was thankful that the strawberry ice cream hid his bright blush.

Their parents smiled, almost knowingly, at the pair. Emily, Oliver's little sister, mimicked puking onto the floor and the twins giggled.

Mr. Conrad's phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello? Hello, Mr. Peterson…Actually, I'm with my family right now could we—" He stopped abruptly and his wife touched his arm. "Yes, sir." He stood. "I need to take this," he said. He walked off and continued to talk to his boss.

As it turned out, that call was about Mr. Conrad's boss moving him all the way to Atlanta, Georgia. He told his family later that night. Stacie had come to his room that night and cried on his shoulder.

They had this favorite spot in this park near to their house. It was in the grass shaded by trees on top of a small hill. There wasn't anything special about it, except that it was where they had their first play date.

This was where he found her the next day.

He sighed as he sat down next to her. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and her face buried in her arms. "I thought I might find you here," he said casually.

She didn't budge.

"Your parents were really worried when they couldn't find you," he continued. "Your dad actually asked me to come and get you because he didn't want to face you himself." Slowly, he put his arm around her and pulled her in closer. "Don't be mad at him, Stace."

"Why shouldn't I be?" she demanded. "It's his fault that I have to go! It's because of him that I have to leave—you!"

His face went hot. "It's not his fault," he said, tipping her face upwards to look at him. Her makeup was smeared and running down her cheeks and she immediately wiped it away with the back of her hand. "It was his boss' decision to move him. You can't blame him. He feels awful about it."

"That doesn't help," she grumbled, a pout on her lips.

He smiled fondly. "Come on," he said persuasively. He nudged her and his waggling fingers made their way to her waist. He ignored her slapping his hands and cries of "Ollie, no!" and tickled every inch of her stomach he could reach. She kicked at him, kneeing his stomach, but his assault continued. He laughed as she unwillingly giggled. Her eyes watered and she rolled on the ground in an attempt to escape. With a loud, "Oh no, you don't!" grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to him.

She halfheartedly elbowed him on the stomach and he grinned, taking in the scent of her hair. Her back was against his chest, her head leaning back on his collarbone, and his arms around her tiny waist.

"I don't wanna go," she sighed.

He ran the pad of his thumb over the fabric of her T-shirt. "I know. I'm gonna miss you. But hey," she looked up at him, "at least we'll have summer together. We can get our parents to let us do whatever we want because we'll be _so miserable_ without each other."

She bit her lip and looked away. "Actually, my dad said that we'll be leaving in about a month," she said hesitantly, carefully watching him.

His cheerfulness faltered like a light bulb flickering out. "Oh," he said. Then suddenly, his reliable enthusiasm returned with a smile. "Well, then let's make the most of our time, okay?"

She closed her eyes as she snuggled into his chest. "Okay."

* * *

"No Stacie, you can't go!" Emily cried as she clung to her neighbor's waist. "You can't leave me alone with Oliver!"

Stacie chuckled sadly. "I don't want me to go, either, Em." She hugged the small girl tightly. "But I have to."

Oliver carefully set down the heavy suitcase he had carried into the back of the moving truck. He walked out from behind the car, lugging the two twins who had vice-like grips on his shins. "Don't go!" they wailed in unison. They had been doing that for the last hour, ever since they started packing. He had a feeling that they did it just to get out of helping.

"Logan, Liam," Stacie scolded lightly. She took Liam in her arms and Oliver hoisted Logan into his. "Sorry about that."

"It's no problem," he sighed. The two boys wiggled out of their arms and ran off to their mother. "You got all of your stuff?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding. She brushed some brown hair behind her ear and subconsciously rubbed her arm. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet.

"This is terrible," Mr. Hale said in faux-despair, breaking the awkward air. "Stacie, you can't go! Who's gonna marry my son when he grows up now?!"

Oliver's face instantly flushed and Stacie giggled.

"_Dad_!"

"Thanks, Mr. Hale," she said, grinning, "I needed that."

Next thing she knew, Oliver's arms were around her waist and her arms were around his neck. He had finally caught up to her in height after three years of her being nearly two inches taller than him. Their parents let them have their moment and they just stood there, holding each other as long as they needed. But it still wouldn't be enough because she still had to leave.

Stacie reluctantly pulled away and wiped away the tears in her eyes with the hell of her hand. She had worn her waterproof mascara for a reason. "Bye," she said.

He gave a sad half smile. "Bye," he breathed.

The Hales watched as the moving truck drove away. Stacie leaned out of the window and waved. Oliver waved back. His phone suddenly vibrated and he checked it: _:(_

He laughed breathlessly and grinned. Yeah, he _must have_ rubbed off on her.

* * *

**AN: Hey, guys! If those of you who are following me are reading this (most of you are probably YJ fans), you're probably expected 'Slipstream' that I promised or one of the other one-shots I mentioned…**  
**I'm sorry! It turned out that every weekday of my spring break (2 weeks!) would be spent babysitting an 8 year old with a rich mommy. And then last weekend was my brother's 13th birthday party, so I've been a little busy looking after a kid and cleaning, even on Easter -_-.**  
**Anyways, I only recently saw Pitch Perfect and I actually liked it. And while flipping between the movie and the song 'Somebody's Heartbreak' on different tabs, this was born. Follow me on twitter scarletsailor to stay updated! Also, follow me on LiveJournal for deleted scenes from any fanfic of mine, including this one. I'm really excited about this one so I hope you'll review and give me some feedback! Please don't favorite without reviewing!**


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